annanotbob's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Who is that woman? I hope all you lovely Moms over there are feeling loved up and appreciated and have had a happy Mother's day. I wonder why they are on different days on either side of the Atlantic? I seem to remember Mothering Sunday from when I was little, as if it was to do with the church, so thought it had a fixed date that related to something, but maybe it hasn't... At one point this afternoon Sammie said to me, in a tone of genuine enquiry, 'So come on then, Mum. What exactly is it that's wrong with you?' 'Yeah, Mum,' chipped in Sara, 'Tell us.' (Not at all the same tone.) I thought about it, and for the life of me I couldn't imagine what the answer was. It didn't feel as though there was anything wrong with me at all - so what's all this business with the psychiatric hospital? Sara said something along the lines of, 'Life's tough, get over it,' and I had no answer to that either, but then Tony came in, the subject changed and I forgot about it till just now. When I feel all right, it's as if a switch has been flipped and the other me just vanishes. This weekend, what was required of me was a solid presence, strong and steady, someone my little grandson and my daughter could lean against for a moment, while they drew breath. I didn't think about any of this consciously, but I had a big hissy fit on Friday, which kind of cleared me out, and on Saturday I just got in the car and drove for a couple of hours* and had somehow transformed into sensible Mum/Granny when I arrived. * while listening to Jonathan Ross on the radio. What a git he is: 'So I'm delighted to welcome Minnie Driver, and congratulations on your pregnancy, Minnie. Do you have any idea yet who the father might be?' Yet I can remember going to my appointment with the doctor on Friday and being in a state that prompted her to say that what was happening to me at the moment was like a wound being healed. She gestured with her hands as she said that when wounds weren't cleaned properly they couldn't heal and that this is what's happening to me. My wound is being opened up to allow it to be cleaned properly all the way through which will enable it to heal properly at last. It was painful, but it would be worth it. At the time this made sense, but now it feels as though it was about someone else. It also feels as though I could reconnect with that person if I read my diary for last week, but I think I'm probably better off without her while she's not here. We did lots of mooching about things at Sammie's and had a lovely time. I took loads of pics, but photobucket is being a complete and utter bastard. It says it's uploaded them, but where the fuck are they? Usually, once pics have been uploaded they pop into the beginning of the top row of images, but they're not there and I can't find them anywhere else. I tried several times, but it started to make me cross, so fuck it. |11:34 p.m. - 11/05/2008 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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